


It's Gonna Be Okay (Someday)

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Gen, Japanese Occupation Mentioned, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, what are verb tenses?, when you start one half of a story and then finish it months later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 12:49:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15995573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It'll be okay, someday, but until then they'll huddle together and pretend that their scars don't burn and their chests don't tighten at the sight of him.





	It's Gonna Be Okay (Someday)

Hong Kong doesn’t know the woman in the hospital bed. England, who now treats him like the richest of silks or the finest of china, places a gentle hand on his shoulder and leads him into the room.

He’s trying to tell him that it’s Soo Jin laying there, but Xiang knows he’s lying. He has to be. His noona was beautiful and proud, with haughty dark eyes, glossy brown locks, and lily-white skin; not like the husk before him with its sunken cheeks, brittle hair, and paper-thin skin.

“Leon,” Arthur whispers; guiding him to the nearby chair as America watches from the door. “Leon, America and I have some business to attend too. I don’t want to leave you, but we’re sentencing…” He falters, and Xiang feels his heart constrict before icing over.

_Japan._

His scars burn, but he just nods as his caretaker steps away with great reluctance. America says something, a farewell perhaps, before dragging England away. As soon as the door clicks shut, the woman (and he still can’t bring himself to believe that it’s his sister there looking so small and fragile) moves; eyes fluttering open as her head turns in his direction.

The air forces itself from his lungs as he stares back into the familiar dark pools. Soo Jin’s lips twitch into a bastardized smile as she reaches out to touch him; arm shaking from the effort. He meets her halfway, falling onto his knees on the floor as she reels him in.

“Dongsaeng,” she rasps as his fingers tighten around her tiny, tiny hand. _Was she always this delicate?_ He wonders as her other hand came up to cup his cheek. “You’ve gotten so big.”

Something like pride (he can’t be sure, Japan made sure to beat any semblance of it out of him during his rule) fills him; warming him from head to toe. It’s true, he was now the second tallest of all their siblings, the title of giant going to Ji-hun, and he’s glad someone else noticed.

“Noona…” His tongue was heavy and his throat itched. “Noona…”

They sit there for a long while, long enough for the sun to sink and his fears for the night to come creeping in. England would be back to collect him soon, and then he would be back in his room, hands curling over the pistol underneath his pillow as he jumped at every shadow. Or, if he’s especially unlucky, sleep would claim him and his dreams plagued by memories and nightmares. Monsters with his brother’s face, (or maybe just his brother in his entirety, he wasn’t sure) and his screams would reach ear-splitting volumes before England came bursting into the room.

He doesn’t want to go, and his sister must’ve seen it on his face because she drew back the covers, wiggling over just enough for him to crawl in. They don’t fit as well as they used too, but it doesn’t stop him from tucking into the warm crook of her body as she rested her chin atop his head. The fear’s still there, and Xiang can feel the nightmares lurking on the edges of his consciousness, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from growing heavy as Soo Jin’s even breaths lured him further and further into the clutches of sleep.

He’ll wake up screaming later, he knows, but he won’t be alone in this fight. It’s a comforting thought as bony fingers twine themselves into his hair, and if this is how their bosses find them for the next fifty years, so be it. They’ve never given a damn about propriety in the first place, why start now?


End file.
